First, Last, Always
by lokis-taking-gallifrey
Summary: Natalia Romanov aka Natasha Romanoff is a spy raised and trained by the secret organization The Red Room. After years of fighting for them she is beginning to feel regrets of the things she had done under their command. What is it going to take from her past and future to set her apart from the liars and killers she had been in the service of her entire life?


Natalia pressed herself against the cold wall of a building, feeling the coolness of it through the thin material she wore. She felt a slight draft coming through the windows, which caused a whistling sound to vibrate through the room. Otherwise, the room was completely silent, eerily so. The occasional music note drifted through into the room where Natalia hid. There was a large party across from her in the motions celebrating the small infiltration of the Soviet government. There were many being held throughout Russia, though, that made no difference to Natalia. This one though held a person of importance to her . Inside that building stood a man that she had assigned to kill.

She cocked and loaded her sniper, then set it into place, eyeing the window, her target would appear in through the scope on her gun. The Red Room had sent her out on an assignment . It was simple enough, all she had to do was fire a bullet into his head and the job would be done. No "Enhanced interrogations," or any form of espionage. Just a quick clean death. It was a message from the Soviets to the resistances letting them know who had the upper hand. Natalia had planned it out, and everything would go according to her design. It always did when she was in charge of her own strategies. Though, The Red Room had always kept a close eye on Natalia, so these missions were rare.

She was one of the few of the orphans that had stood firm against their brainwashing techniques. And to them, that made her a loose end, a liability. But yet, she was also the best of their girls. Their "Black Widows". She was quick, and agile. Though more importantly, Natalia was beautiful, long red hair, lean frame and full breasts. She was the definition of femme fatale, and that was exactly what the Red Room wanted and needed her to be.

The infamous Red Room was a program started in 1914 by those who had opposed the Russian Tsars. It was a program of 26 young female orphans, girls that wouldn't be missed. They were trained to be beautiful and deadly. The original girls had died in missions around Russia by the time Natalia had been taken in by a Russian soldier named Ivan. And in the same way they had trained the earlier girls, The Red Room had raised Natalia. They groomed her into the skilled assassin that could lie and kill without second thoughts.

Natalia sucked in a breath as her target came into sight, He was a man of average height, close cut hair, a bit portly. A fine tailored suit decorated his visage. She inhaled thrice as her finger applied pressure to the trigger - the shot ringing out seconds later. It hit her target with deadly precision. She rolled onto her side, hearing the screams of witnesses begin to ring. Natalia collected her gun, stuffing it into a bag. She knew it wouldn't take long before people from the party began to run into the building she hid in. It wasn't rocket science to discover the origin of a gunshot. She stood up, careful to stay out of the sight of the window, and hurried through the door. Her hand trailed along the wall as she left listening for the tell-tale sound of footsteps up the staircase. She heard nothing. Natalia tip-toed her way down the steps of the building when she decided the coast was clear. She only reached halfway down the flight of stairs before the footsteps of men running reached her ears. It didn't frighten her. She was trained for this.

Natalia waited until she heard the sounds of the footsteps on the stairs directly under her. A smirk threatened to show on her face as she threw herself over the railing, kicking one of the men in the head. As she landed, Natalia swung around, her bag flying and hitting another assailant in the stomach. Before he could recover she twisted around, her elbow making contact with his nose, sending the now broken bone into the mans brain. He collapsed immediately.

Another man heaved towards her, grabbing her neck. Natalia hooked onto his arm in response, swinging herself up and locking her legs around his neck. She easily flipped him onto the ground, and used the strength in her legs to cut off his airways. Natalia held the man tight between her thighs. He made attempts to free himself, trying to pull her legs from his neck, making a move to grab at her hair, but it didn't take long for him to stop struggling.

Natalia counted to five after her stopped moving, then stood up kicking him over as she headed to grab her bag off the floor. She yanked open the zipper, finding the gun in it broken.

"Shit" she muttered to herself. The Red Room wouldn't be happy with the broken weapon, despite the fact that they undoubtedly had rooms stock piled with plenty of extra guns. Natalia sighed as she zipped the bag shut and heaved it over her shoulder.

Heading out the back door she turned her head looking for anyone who could be hiding outside. The alleyway empty, the only living creatures were a few birds pecking for seeds through the snow. Natalia adjusted the bag on her shoulder as she headed down the alley. There was a car waiting a few streets down waiting to bring her back from the mission. She hoped the driver was Ivan, the same Ivan that had saved her and brought her to the Red Room. It was unlikely though, she was a grown woman coming from a mission that was as routine as covert missions could be. Not a small child who would need comfort after hours of hiding in a small location to gather info.

She pulled the door of the car shut with a slam.  
"Was the mission successful, Natalia?" a man's cold voice echoed from the front seat.  
"It was" she replied in monotone words.

He nodded and Natalia caught a glimpse of his face in the rear view mirror. She hadn't seen him before, but Natalia didn't let that bother her. The faces of the people she worked for and with became less and less familiar with each passing decade. Most had died, after all, The Red Room didn't waste their precious super-serum on just anyone.  
She leaned her head back against the cool material of the seat. Closing her eyes she flashes of familiar faces crossed the back of her eyelids. Fellow Black Widows who had died on missions, past lovers, everyone she had left behind. She shuddered and moved around, letting her head fall onto her shoulder, trying to banish the faced from her mind.

They'd been left behind because they were weak. And Natalia was not weak.


End file.
